


and yet must be

by dedkake



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutant Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: Erik brings Charles to a safe house after an attack on the mansion.





	and yet must be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magweirdo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magweirdo/gifts).



It’s two days before Charles says anything. He sleeps through most of it, troubled and twitching, waking for only brief moments before slipping back into unconsciousness.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, Erik decides. He’s never minded quiet or isolation before. What’s unsettling is the thought of what Charles will say when he does wake. There will be questions, Erik is sure, and most likely accusations. He can handle that.

The thing that Erik finds most unpleasant is not knowing. He only has a vague idea of what happened at the mansion. He’d been too late to stop it. By the time he’d arrived, Charles was the only one left in the mansion as it burned to the ground.

There’s an angry scar across Charles’ cheek, the jagged shape unmistakeable. M. Marked. Mistake. _Mutant._

This is the start of the war that Erik knew was coming. This is identification, suppression. It started on a beach in Cuba and it’s continuing now with the destruction of Charles’ sanctuary for young mutants. Rounding up the children will force everyone else into line. Without the children, the future for mutantkind is far too clear.

When Charles comes fully awake for the first time, Erik feels the slide of telepathy across his skin like sandpaper, so unlike that what he’s come to expect from Charles. He’s outside chopping wood when it happens, and he almost drops the ax on his foot in surprise.

_Erik_. Charles’ mental voice is loud and it leaves Erik’s ears ringing.

“Give me a minute,” Erik says, setting another log. “We need more firewood.”

Charles retreats, the coarse feel of his mental fingers dissipating into nothing. It’s too easy, Erik thinks. Charles should be demanding answers, action, he should be shouting.

Erik’s breath leaves him in a growl with the next stroke of the ax. There’s enough wood to last them the night already, but he needs to gather his thoughts.

The government has turned against them with the Registration Act, he thinks with another strike. The academy is dust and ash. Another. He hasn’t heard from any of his associates in a week. His next stroke lodges the ax in the log at a bad angle, pulling the ax out of his hand and to the ground with dull a clatter.

There’s nothing else for it. Charles will have to know some time, no matter how much Erik doesn’t want to be the one to tell him.

Gathering up as much of the wood as he can, Erik returns to the cabin.

Charles is sitting up on his cot, propped against the wall with his head tilted high. His gaze slips down to meet Erik when he enters, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling?” Erik asks, dropping the firewood in his arms onto the pile inside the door.

“Like shit,” Charles says, his voice ragged around the edges. 

Erik winces at the sound. It feels wrong, makes the hair on his arms stand on-end the same way Charles’ rough mental voice had. “I don’t know what they drugged you with,” Erik says, “but you’ve been out for two days.”

Charles lets out a long breath, the sound loud and purposeful. He’s collecting his thoughts. “My students?” he asks, eyes back on the ceiling, like he knows the answer already.

“Gone,” Erik says. There’s nothing else to say, really. He has no idea where they are, and only that it was the US Government who took them.

In the next moment, the room grows too warm too quickly, until Erik realizes the heat along his skin is also burning in his mind. “Charles,” he says, one hand flying to his temple against the sudden pain.

The heat retreats as quickly as it came. Charles pinches the bridge of his nose, sliding back down onto the cot. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quietly. “Nothing feels right.”

Erik takes a deep breath, free of pain, and steps across the room, sitting down in the chair near Charles’ cot. “They’ve been developing new drugs and weapons that specifically target mutants,” he says, although he’s sure Charles already knows.

“Hank was giving us reports on their progress,” Charles says, eyes still closed. 

Before he can stop himself, Erik says, “They arrested him first.” There are better ways to impart such delicate information, but there it is.

“I know,” Charles murmurs, his voice gone soft. “I saw the news report. ‘Congressman arrested after attacking police on Capitol Hill.’ As if Hank would ever use violence unprovoked.”

There’s nothing to say to that. Erik has been trying to tell Charles for years that this was coming, that it would start small and end in genocide, but this is not the time or the place.

Charles shifts, glancing at Erik from under his fingers. “They had suppression devices and anti-psi drugs ready for use before the Registration Bill even passed.”

Erik isn’t surprised. “Charles,” he starts, but Charles cuts him off.

“I know. They play by your rules, not mine. I should’ve seen it coming.” Charles rubs his hand down his face, his fingers tracing the newly forming scar. “But we were making so much progress, with Hank a Representative and Sean reporting for the Times.”

Progress, Erik thinks, means very little in the face of overwhelming hatred. He doesn’t say anything. Charles doesn’t need to hear it.

“I can play by their rules too, you know,” Charles says quietly, his fingers pressing hard against the lines on his cheek. He glances at Erik, the coldness in his eyes sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Erik says, almost surprised at how true the statement is. As much as he’s wanted Charles by his side, he doesn’t want it like this.

Charles reaches out to wrap his fingers around Erik’s wrist, solid and warm. _I’m glad they haven’t gotten you._ His mental voice is still too rough, still unnatural, but the words are a comfort.

“They won’t get us,” Erik says, twisting his hand around to catch Charles fingers in his own. “And we’ll get the rest of them back.”

“I’m not ready for promises just yet,” Charles says, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. 

Just yet, Erik thinks, is the most promising thing he’s ever heard.


End file.
